


Insensibility

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Drama, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e22 What Kind of Day Has It Been, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-06-30
Updated: 2001-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-15 12:16:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14790372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: They need to feel





	Insensibility

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

 

TITLE: Insensibility   
AUTHOR: Charlotte Unsworth   
RATING: R   
CATEGORY: Donna/Sam   
SPOILERS: Post 'What Kind of Day Has This Been?'   
SUMMARY: They need to feel.   
DISTRIBUTION: Just let me know.   
FEEDBACK: Love it or hate it, either way please tell me.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Insensible: 1. Small, imperceptible. 2.   
devoid of physical sensation or the power to react.

And thanks once again to Toni for an amazing beta!

::-------------::   
She's been sitting there for hours. Just   
sitting, she stares across the room but I   
swear that she doesn't have any idea   
what's going on around her. She's still   
there when I return from speaking to the   
doctor. I sit beside her and she doesn't   
notice I'm there. I touch her shoulder to   
get her attention. She jumps in surprise.

"Sorry."

"'S'ok," she murmurs and lapses back into   
silence.

"Donna." She drags her attention back to me.   
"I just spoke to the doctor. Josh is out of   
surgery, he's in the recovery room now." She   
stares at me for a moment, then closes her   
eyes, but the tension present in every muscle   
of her body remains.

"Can I see him?"

"I don't - " I want to say no; I don't want   
her to see him like that, but the hopeful   
look on her face is too much and I stifle   
any objection.

"Sure."

I guide her to the recovery room. We aren't   
allowed in but there is a window she can   
look through. For a while, though, she doesn't.   
Instead, she stands, her back to the wall   
beside the window as she gathers the strength   
to look in. When she finally draws herself up   
and turns to the window, she sees him. Lying   
there, still connected to tubes and machines   
he seems very far away, separated from me by   
more than the thin glass of the window.

I can see in the reflective glass that she   
feels the same.

"Let me take you home."

She shakes her head.

"I want to stay with him."

"Donna." I lay my hand on her arm, turning   
her towards me. "He'll be in there for   
another few hours, they won't let you in   
until then, at least. Let me take you home,   
so you can get some sleep."

"I couldn't sleep."

"Then have a shower, get something to eat."   
Something, anything to get her away from   
this window, to take that look from her eye.   
As I take her arm to lead her away, I realise   
how completely unexpected her acquiescence is.

How much it seems like giving in.

::-------------::

I lie here now, cradling her sleeping form   
in my arms, and I don't even know how it   
happened.

She was completely unresponsive in the car   
back to her apartment. I couldn't get her   
to say anything, except when I turned the   
radio on to break the unendurable silence.   
She quietly asked me to turn it off,   
because she had a headache.

We got there and I - I couldn't leave her,   
not like that. I felt I owed it to Josh   
to make sure that she would be okay   
before I left.

Ironic, isn't it.

So I took her inside. I got her aspirin   
for her headache, made her some coffee   
that she took with shaking hands. She   
spilled the scalding liquid all over   
her hands.

She was more concerned about the carpet.

I don't think she even realised she had   
been hurt until I practically dragged   
her into the kitchen to get her hands   
under the taps. She was silent. All the   
time I was bathing her hands, drying   
them, asking if she was okay, she didn't   
say one word.

Then I looked up.

Tears were streaming down her face. I   
didn't know what else to do. So I   
held her.

What else could I have done? I was just   
so relieved to have some kind of emotion   
from her rather than this fugue state she   
had been in since arriving at the   
hospital. I wasn't expecting her to   
glance up at me with this - this look   
I can never describe, even with my   
talent for words, this look I will never   
forget - and kiss me.

I should have stopped it. I should have   
stopped her, pushed her back. Explained   
to her that I didn't want to do this,   
especially when it was because she   
wanted desperately to feel something   
other than grief and helplessness. But   
I did want to. I wanted to feel   
something. I hadn't been able to since   
CJ and I stood, thankful to be relatively   
unhurt, and then heard Toby's voice crack   
as he called for a doctor. Since I saw   
Josh's blood seeping out of him and   
staining his shirt bright red. Since   
I heard Josh mumble my name, and that he   
needed to come get me. I haven't been able   
to feel. There's been nothing but a stunned   
numbness, a kind of dull ache that always   
threatens to break into something more   
but never quite does.

I wanted to feel something.

And Donna. God, she was beautiful in the   
soft light that filtered through her thin   
curtains. Even the tear tracks on her   
cheeks as she gently unbuttoned my shirt   
were bathed in light that made them look   
like silver. Her skin was so soft against   
mine, and warm. Her mouth opened to mine   
without question, insistent but not   
forceful. As my fingertips skimmed across   
her back and I kissed her throat her head   
fell back and her hair brushed my arm. As   
I kissed my way down her body her hands   
tangled in my hair, urging me silently on.   
As I entered her she inhaled, a long,   
shuddering breath that made me pause. She   
kissed me to encourage me, and we moved.

Now I lie with her and she is asleep. Her   
head on my chest, my arms around her, I   
feel the deep slow breathing that can only   
mean she is finally resting.

I can't.

I keep hearing Josh, in my office six   
months ago.

"I'm in love with her." I hear the words so   
clearly that for an instant I look around,   
half expecting to see him standing over me,   
gazing reproachfully towards us. Towards me,   
as I lie in his assistant's bed.

I should feel that this is a mistake.

::-------------::

His heartbeat is comforting. Rhythmic,   
constant, comforting. And his breathing,   
now slowed from our earlier exertions, has   
the same rhythmic quality that under any   
other circumstance would have lulled me   
to sleep.

I can feel that he is still awake as well.   
Neither of us say a word. Perhaps he thinks   
I am asleep. Perhaps he is already   
thinking of the consequences once we leave   
this small room and go back, as we inevitably   
must, to work. And to the hospital.

A phone rings shrilly. Gently, Sam eases me   
off him and to one side. He must think I am   
asleep and my eyes close almost by themselves   
to play along with the charade. He stumbles   
out of the bed, searching for something in   
the darkened room. I open my eyes to watch   
him, hunting through his trouser pockets for   
the insistent cell phone.

"Sam Seaborn." There is a pause as he   
listens, then glances across to me before   
looking away and lowering his voice. I sit   
up, knowing it must be someone from the   
hospital. "Thanks." As he hangs up he   
registers with some surprise that I am   
sitting on the edge of the bed with my   
sheet wrapped around me, listening.

"Morning," he says as with some hesitation   
he turns to me. I think he is about to sit   
beside me, but then he changes his mind and   
instead begins gathering his clothes. "That   
was Toby. We should go back to the hospital."

"What happened?" There is panic in my voice.   
He must hear it, he comes to me and takes   
my hand.

"Nothing happened. There were a few problems   
overnight, but he's out of the recovery   
room now. They're letting people in to see   
him." He drops my hand, and heads to the   
bathroom. He won't get dressed in front of   
me, I realise, and I wonder if he realised   
he didn't use Josh's name just now.

::-------------::

The bed is made by the time he emerges, I am   
dressed and sitting in the living room. We   
make the journey to the hospital in silence,   
and it isn't until he pulls up outside the   
entrance that Sam turns to me.

"Why don't you go in, I'll park."

I agree and begin to open the door, but   
there is something else he wants to say.

"Donna!" he glances out of the windshield,   
away from me. "About last night, I I don't   
think we should mention it to the others. I   
think we should forget it."

I knew he was going to say it. Somewhere in   
the back of my mind I have been waiting for   
him to say it since I kissed him last night.   
But I wasn't prepared for it. Absurdly,   
tears prick at my eyes and I have to blink   
to keep them away, praying he doesn't   
notice.

"I understand." He nods, still staring   
at the road ahead.

"I'll see you inside in a minute." I close   
the car door and he drives away. As I walk   
into the hospital, I don't understand. I   
don't understand why I feel like crying,   
why I want to go back to my apartment and   
shower, then curl up under the bedcovers   
until somebody drags me out.

But now just isn't the time.

CJ is in the waiting room when I arrive.   
She tells me Josh is awake, and allowed   
visitors. She offers to show me the way   
to his room but I tell her I can find it   
myself. There is a look of pity in her   
face as she leaves, and I can't decide   
what it means.

I pause at his door before going in, just   
looking at him through the window. Leo is   
sitting at his bedside, apparently deep in   
conversation. Then he glances up and sees   
me. Saying something more to Josh, he gets   
up and walks out. Josh's gaze follows him,   
and lands on me.

He smiles.

::-------------::

Josh motioned for her to come in, and it   
seemed to him that she hesitated before   
pushing open the door to go and sit   
beside him.

"How are you doing?"

"I feel like I've been shot in the chest."   
She managed a weak smile, and suddenly he   
realised that her face was drawn and pale,   
and he wondered if she had slept at all   
in the hours he had been in surgery. "Have   
you been here the whole time?"

"I asked Mrs Bartlet if there was any work   
I should be doing, Josh, and she told me..."   
her defensive tone caught him off guard and   
he hurried to reassure her.

"That's not what I meant."

"Oh. No, Sam made me go home when you came   
out of surgery." They lapsed into silence.   
She reached for his hand, clasping it   
between hers as she absently kissed his   
fingers. The gesture caught him by   
surprise, and concerned him.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm fine."

"Really?" She nodded, and he let it drop.   
They remained in silence until the doctor   
came in, saying that he needed some rest.   
He squeezed her hand a little, and she   
leaned down to kiss his cheek.

"Don't scare me like that again," she   
murmured.

"I'll do my best."

::-------------::

I bump into Toby as I come around the   
corner out of Josh's room. He takes   
my arm to steady me, letting go almost   
immediately.

"You okay, Donna?"

"Yeah." Then something Sam said this   
morning comes back to me. "Toby, what   
kind of problems did they have last   
night? Sam said something..." I   
falter, not wanting to give us away,   
but he doesn't seem to have noticed.

"Josh went into cardiac arrest two   
hours after they put him into the   
recovery room. There was some problem   
with the surgery, and his heart stopped.   
They got him back in the theatre. They   
had to resuscitate him twice before they   
got him stabilised." He delivers this in   
a monotone, designed to hide any emotion   
he feels on the subject.

He must see my shock, because he reaches   
out. "He's a fighter, Donna. And he's   
going to be fine." He stands with me   
awkwardly, then turns and walks back   
to where CJ is waiting.

::-------------::


End file.
